Some Kind of Superman
by Angel Grace
Summary: Clark finally realizes what's been in front of him all along.


Pairing: Clark/Chloe MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 st1:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} 

Pairing: Clark/Chloe

Rating: PG, maybe PG-13, but I doubt it

Disclaimer: I'm too tired to find out who the characters belong to, I just know it's not me. Not copyright infringement is intended. Characters are being used for entertainment purposes only, and no profit is being made.

Spoilers: The first three episodes, I guess, but not much.

Author's Note: Technically, I've only seen 1 ½ episodes of _Smallville_, so please pardon anything that seems out of character. And yes, I know the title sucks.

**Some Kind of Superman**

**By Grace**

I just had to go and ask the question, didn't I? I just had to know whether he had outgrown our friendship. He said "no," of course, but that wasn't a surprise. Even if it wasn't true, Clark wouldn't want to hurt me. Don't get me wrong—I believe what he said—and therein lies the problem.

The irony of it all is that I, Chloe Sullivan, _have_ outgrown our friendship. Although I cherish the time that we spend together, it's not what I want. I want more.

And what does Clark want? Little Miss Alliterative Name Lana Lang. She's beautiful. She's nice. She's sincere. I can't even hate her without feeling guilty, which, in a seriously messed-up twist, makes me hate her even more.

It's so _Some Kind of Wonderful_ I could scream. (I know, the movie is a little before my time, but this is Smallville. Movies air on network TV before they hit our one and only theater.) The only difference is that so far, my "Keith" hasn't made any stunning revelations about his best friend. If I was the kind of girl who watched _Dawson's Creek_ (which I'm not…really…I swear!), I could say it was a total Dawson/Joey season 1 situation.

But I digress. The point it, I don't know how much longer I can keep these feelings to myself. Sure, I've been doing it for years now, but all of a sudden, I can feel things changing.

Take tonight, for example. It was bad enough that I actually showed my face at a school football game to support Clark. Now he's convinced me to go to some stupid dance. It's not even a formal, sweep-you-off-your-feet, "Chloe, will you go to Homecoming with me?" kind of dance. It's the Harvest Dance, and since this is Smallville, we actually have to wait until after the harvest to have it. Basically, it's just one more excuse to cram a bunch of sweaty, hyper-hormonal teenagers into a gymnasium filled with tacky decorations. It's supposed to "raise school spirit." Whatever.

Besides, it's not like Clark really asked me to go _with_ him. It was more of an implied, "Hey Chloe, you should come keep me company while I pine for Lana" type of thing. Still, maybe I'll be able to coerce him into one slow dance…

Oh, crap. He's here.

* * *

As I stand on Chloe's front porch, the gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach continues to expand. I wonder if maybe I didn't eat enough dinner, but that's pretty much impossible with my mom around. It suddenly dawns on me that I'm nervous. I shouldn't be—this is just Chloe, after all. It's probably in anticipation of seeing Lana at the dance.

The door swings open, and my breath catches, just a little. I'm so used to seeing Chloe everyday; I can't remember the last time I actually _looked_ at her. She's not wearing anything spectacular, just a pale blue sweater and a khaki skirt, but the sweater looks really…soft, and it actually takes a conscious effort for me not to reach out and touch it.

"Wow, you look really nice," I manage to stammer out.

"Thanks, so do you," she replies. She smiles up at me, but I can see sadness in her eyes.

I casually sling one arm around her shoulders as we descend the porch steps, and I'm surprised to feel her tense up. "Chloe, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. You know me—I'm not a huge fan of school social events."

I stop walking, and she turns to look at me, surprise written on her face. "Do you not want to go?" I ask her. "We can just stay here and hang out, if you'd rather."

"No, I said I'd go, and I will. I know how important this is to you."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

We climb into the car, and the short drive to the high school is unusually quiet. Normally, Chloe talks a mile a minute, and now I'm concerned that there's something seriously wrong. I can't seem to find the words to ask, though. This is the first time I've ever felt tongue-tied around her. I glance up at the full moon, and I begin to wonder if maybe I'm not just from another planet, but from another planet populated by werewolves…

* * *

It's never a good thing when a journalist can't find the words to express herself. I hate that he has this kind of effect on me, but tonight, I'm afraid that if I open my mouth, everything I feel for him is just going to come tumbling out in one big rush. I also know that if I don't say something soon, he's liable to pull the car over and interrogate me until I spill my guts.

Unfortunately, my mouth decides of its own volition to say the first thing that pops into my head. "Did you talk to Lana at all today?" I ask, cringing as the words pass my lips.

Even in the darkness, I can tell that he's blushing.

"Um, yeah, a little. I asked her if she was going to be at the dance tonight, and she said that she and Whitney were planning on going."

"I'm sorry, Clark," I say sincerely. Even if I wanted his heart to belong to me, I didn't like to see him hurting.

He just shrugged. "I'll be okay. Besides, she said she'd save me a dance."

I force my shoulders not to slump, and I pray he won't hear the tiny hitch in my voice when I speak. "Well, see, you're making progress."

He must have heard _something_ strange, because he gives me a funny look, but all he says is, "I guess I am."

To my relief, we pull into the school parking lot then, and I surreptitiously wipe the threatening tears from my eyes before getting out of the car.

In a gallant gesture, Clark holds out his arm to escort me, and I link mine with his, unable to resist the desire to be near him.

Squaring my shoulders and tilting up my chin, I allow him to lead me into the building, where we will face our classmates—and, I was certain, my doom.

The first person we see when we enter the gym is Pete, and I hope that his presence will ease the tension between me and Clark. Instead, he just makes things worse.

* * *

"Hey Clark, Chloe. Guess what, man? Lana just asked me if you were here yet. Is there something I should know?"

I feel myself start to blush yet again. "Not really, she just promised me a dance."

"Impressive. Listen, Whitney just wandered off with his friends. Now's your chance."

My heart begins to pound, and I glance at Chloe for reassurance, but she won't meet my gaze. Swallowing hard, I mumble, "Wish me luck," and head off in Lana's direction.

Much to my relief, she isn't surrounded by the entire cheerleading squad as I approach her. Instead, she is standing rather quietly near the refreshment table, contemplating her glass of fruit punch.

She looks up as I get closer, and a smile graces her beautiful face.

"Hi Clark. I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

"Well, here I am," I reply, trying not to wince at my inane remark. With relief, I note that she isn't wearing her necklace, so at least I'll only sound like a fool, instead of acting like one, too.

"Are we still going to have that dance?"

"Yes! I mean, sure, if you want. How about the next slow song? I'm not much good with fast music."

"I'd like that."

As if on cue, the bouncy pop song that has been playing ends and the soft strains of a country song begin.

Lana laughs. "Well, that's good timing."

To my astonishment, she reaches out and takes my hand, leading me onto the dance floor. I can't seem to speak, and simply let the words of the song wash over me.

_We've always been the best of friends_

_ No secrets and no demands_

_ But suddenly from somewhere out of the blue_

_ I see a different light around you_

_ One thing I haven't told you, I just want to hold you_

_ And never let go, I need to know_

Good song, I think to myself. Wait a sec, what is wrong with me? Lana Lang is in my arms. We're dancing. She's beautiful. She's what I want. So why does this song remind me of…

I lift my head, scanning the crowd for my best friend.

_How do I get there from here_

_ How do I make you see_

_ How do I tell you what my heart's been telling me_

_ Lost in your lovin' arms that's where I wanna be_

_ You know I love you_

_ How do I get there_

Wait, there she is, over near the door. Even from halfway across the room, I can tell that something is wrong. Chloe looks like she's…crying

_You probably think I've lost my mind_

_ Takin' this chance crossin' that line_

_ But I promise to be truer than true_

_ Dreaming every night with these arms around you_

_ I can't wait any longer this feeling's getting stronger_

_ Help me find a way_

My world begins to spin out of control. I can barely breathe. It was worse than finding out that I was from another planet, worse than being trapped in the coach's steam room.

_How do I get there from here_

_ How do I make you see_

_ How do I tell you what my heart's been telling me_

_ Lost in your lovin' arms that's where I wanna be_

_ You know I love you_

_ How do I get there_

Even as my life turns upside down, things begin to fall into place. My earlier nervousness suddenly makes sense. Chloe's irrational dislike of Lana seems perfectly logical now.

_I know the shortest distance between two points is a straight line_

_ But I'll climb any mountain that you want me to climb_

_ The perfect combination is your heart and mine_

_ Darlin' won't you give me a sign_

I realize then that I have practically stopped moving, and Lana is staring up at me in confusion. But I don't really notice, because I am too busy watching Chloe run from the gymnasium.

_How do I get there from here_

_ How do I make you see_

_ How do I tell you what my heart's been telling me_

_ Lost in your lovin' arms that's where I wanna be_

_ You know I love you_

_ How do I get there_

I take off running, leaving Lana standing in the middle of the dance floor. The only thought in my mind is catching Chloe, making her understand, and making her stop crying.

As soon as I am free from the confines of the gymnasium, I break into full speed. In a matter of seconds, I am on the football field, reaching to catch Chloe's wrist. I slow down and spin her back to face me, and I am astonished to see the tears streaming down her face. Without warning, I can't seem to speak.

* * *

I can't believe that Clark is standing here in front of me, that he bothered to come after me at all. I'm not sure whether to be ecstatic or angry. At least for the moment, the anger wins out.

"What do you want, Clark?"

For once, he doesn't seem to know what to say to me. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he manages to mumble lamely.

I can't help sighing in exasperation. "Oh, I'm just great. I'm thinking of starting a new dance tradition called 'run from the gym crying.' It'll be right up there with getting crowned Prom queen."

"Chloe, please don't do this."

"Don't do what? Don't get upset? Don't act like a girl? Just be good old reliable Chloe?"

"No, I…"

"I think you should go back inside. I'm sure Lana's wondering where you are."

I turn away from him again, struggling to hold off another round of tears. I keep waiting to hear his retreating footsteps, but there is no sound save my own labored breathing.

"Chloe," he says so softly I can barely hear him, "I'm not going back inside unless you come with me."

"I don't want your pity."

I feel him move closer, the same way I can always sense his presence. When he speaks again, I can feel the warmth of his breath, and a rebellious sob escapes my throat. I pray he hasn't heard me, but he must have, because he slips his arms around me and pulls me close. I don't want to allow myself to relax into his embrace, but between the feel of his firm, strong chest and this intense…_heat_ radiating from his body, I can't seem to help myself.

"This isn't about pity. It's about you, and me, and what just happened inside."

"I don't want to talk about it."

He tightens his hold on me, and my heart begins to pound.

"You don't have to talk—just listen."

I nod my head slightly, and close my eyes as he begins to speak.

* * *

The scent of Chloe's shampoo is downright intoxicating, and I am having a hard time starting a sentence. At last, though, I find my voice.

"Tonight felt like something out of a dream, Chloe. I mean, I couldn't have scripted it better if I had tried. We get to the dance, Whitney's nowhere to be found, and Lana's asking about me."

At the mention of Lana, I feel Chloe stiffen, which only reconfirms my suspicions. Once again, I tighten my hold, her slight frame pressed flush against me.

"She brought up dancing almost as soon as I went over to talk to her. I figured there wouldn't be a slow song for a while, and I could mentally prepare myself. But it was like someone was listening to us, and that song started to play…" I trailed off. That song changed everything. Somehow, I have to make her understand what I am feeling.

I can hear her soft whimpers as she cries. Before I lose my nerve, I gently turn her around so I can look her in the eye. She is having none of that, though, keeping her gaze trained on the ground.

Determined to see this through, I tip her chin up. "Chloe, when I was dancing with Lana, it was supposed to be everything I had ever wanted. But as I listened to the lyrics we were dancing to, all I could think about was you."

Shock transforms her face. "What?"

"There I was, holding the girl of my dreams, and all that mattered was that my best friend was upset."

Her face falls. "Best friend?"

"Always. That's when it hit me—Lana was the girl of my dreams, but that's all she was, a dream. Somehow, I managed to overlook the fact that there's another girl in my life, and she's smart and funny and beautiful, and I'm completely crazy about her."

* * *

I swear I'm turning into a faucet—I start crying again. At least this time, they're tears of joy. Nonetheless, in his typical guys-can't-handle-women-crying fashion, Clark looks concerned.

"Chloe? You know I'm talking about you, right?"

I laugh. "Yes."

"And, uh, how do you feel about that?"

Grinning, I reply, "Let's just say I think you look good wearing my future."

"Huh?"

"Just kiss me, Clark." 

That, at least, he understands. As he bends his head to me, I am finally able to tangle my fingers in that beautiful hair of his; I watch those gorgeous eyes flutter closed before my own drift shut; and as I finally taste his lips upon me, I smile into the kiss, thinking that, wherever he is, John Hughes would be proud.


End file.
